User blog:Shieldmaiden/Return to Noonvale
Dedicated to my family- Dad, Mom, V, B, J, and Z. Also for Rose, Finnbarr, Skarlath, Felldoh, and for Ares. You were a true warrior and will live on in Lord Resa. Look out for spoilers from Martin the Warrior (duh), Mossflower, Legend of Luke, Outcast of Redwall, and Doomwyte. Prologue: Enter the Players Whispering voices roused him from a deep sleep. His battle instincts, long unused, caused him to move quickly as he pulled his dagger from its place hanging above his bed, careful not to wake his slumbering wife. He noted with dismay the patches of rust and corrosion pitting the blade to the point of uselessness. He should have maintained it. ' '''He opened the door outside and followed a faint light. It reminded him of that long night so many seasons ago, back when he had been a young 'un. He smiled, recalling his long-gone best friend's cocky smile and wholesome laugh. ' 'The light entered Noonvale's library and he followed in silence. He lost it for a minute amidst the dusty shelves and old tomes, but arguing and sleepy voices soon got him back on track. “Wanga, why yoo bwing us here?” a cross Dibbun he recognized as his own son Riordan demanded, “I tired!” ' 'He shook his head in amusment and sheathed the blade. Dibbuns. He should have known. The squirrelbabe Ranga was climbing a high shelf, scanning the titles as she responded to her inquisitive friend. “Wemember da stowy yoo Daddy wead us wast nigh'? Welw, da second book's here.” ' '“Dere's anover stowy wiv Martin ee Wurrior?” a plump harebabe asked. ' '''Ranga nodded. “Yes. It after war wiv Badwung, back when Mommy and Daddy were likkle!” There were gasps. “Dat old? Wow!” “Did they figh' in da big battle!” Ranga squealed in triumph and pulled a tome nearly as big as she was from the shelf and threw it onto a nearby armchair. She nimbly leaped after it and opened it to the first page. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud, stumbling over the longer words. ' '''The adult who had followed them smiled as he heard long dusty memories brought into the light at last from the dark recesses of his mind. Ah yes. Those were the days. Back when he was young and strong, and free as the wind. Back when many friends who were now dead walked the world and were alive. Ah, yes. Those were the days . . . ' = Book One: The Warbeast of the North = 48 Seasons Before, in the Summer of the Shining Water Chapter One: Zounzdican Night had fallen over the village of Noonvale. Somewhere in the murky blackness, an owl hooted thrice, adding to the sense of foreboding and danger. On this night, precisely eight seasons ago, Badrang the Tyrant had slain Laterose of Noonvale. Unaware of the night's significance, two rats were bumbling blindly around in the woods. The older of the two was a bulky rat appropriately named Fatgutt. He leaned on a halberd, and a rusty iron helm graced his head. His companion was not very old- only aged about 12 seasons, but his face was scarred with traces of past battles, most notably the slash across his left eye. His name was Ripred, and his preferred weapon was a sabre. “Admit it, we're lost.” Ripred said, more than slightly annoyed, “This is the second time we've passed that tree in an hour!" "Come on, there's only one way left!" Ripred rolled his eyes but followed the older rat. "What're we looking for, anyways?" "Didn't ye listen? Her Ladyship gave precious orders-" "Precise!" muttered Ripred. Fatgutt dealt the young rat a blow. "Shud up, numbbrain! Anyways, she told us to scout out these woods and report anything of interest, like villages or fortresses." The two vermin continued on their way, arguing. Silence descended once more on the woods- but not for long. A compact figure slid down the trunk of a nearby tree. Another popped out from behind a bush. The two converged in the center of the clearing. "Come on, Brome, let's follow 'em!" the second figure whispered. The first nodded and they followed the pair. In the eight seasons since Badrang's defeat, Brome of Noonvale had grown much. He was now a very skilled healer, though still small for his age. His companion towered over him- though this was to be expected. Being the oldest otter at Noonvale, Keyla was taller than most of the populace, except Rowanoak and Ballaw DeQuincewold. The pair crouched behind a rocky outcropping and peered over it. "By the fire, would you look at that!" It was a massive army. Ferrets, foxes, weasels, stoats, and rats, a mass of unruly vermin- all led by a single pine marten. Her name was Zounzdican the Evil. Unlike most females, she scorned dresses, preferring instead the rough tunic and spiked armor of a warlord. In her paw rested a barbaric sword- longer and wider than your average claymore. It boasted barbs running up and down the blade, a pair of which stood at the tip of the sword, larger and even more fiercer than the rest. It looked rather heavy, but she easily wielded it with one paw. Her eyes were like two chips of stone, and just as cold. This was Zounzdican the Evil, Warbeast of the North. "An army of vermin!" gasped Brome. "That big 'un's about to speak," Keyla shushed. His eyes locked on her. Somewhere, in his mind's eye . . . The gale bristled with thunder and flashed with lightning. He felt the hot passion of hate washing over him as he stared at the prostrate body of his father, blood pouring down his head. '' Something poked him and the memory vanished. Brome looked at his otter friend worriedly. "You alright?" Keyla shook his head to clear his thoughts. Whatever that was, it was gone now. "Tell ye later," he muttered, eager to get off the topic, "Now shush." "We are starting a new life here." Her voice rang and echoed off the rocks, intensifying her eloquent tone. "Here in the Northlands, we can regroup. Grow strong once more. And when we are, we will take vengeance." Deafening cheers rang from the shore. Keyla and Brome had to cover their ears until it died down. "If you remember, we were bested once by a tribe of mice from Mossflower. Pah!" She spit on the ground in disgust. As well as dressing like one, she had the atrocious manners of a searat captain. "We shall conquer what ever pitiful tribes are left here. And then on to Mossflower, to exact our revenge! What is our goal?" her voice was screeching now, so high with rage you could hardly hear it. All the vermin cried as one, "Revenge! Revenge!" "And who will lead you to victory?" "You, O Evil One!" Several rocks shattered under the intense sound waves. "I think we've seen enough,” Brome muttered. Keyla tore his eyes away from the strangely familiar pine marten and nodded. "You're right, mate. Let's get out o' 'ere while we can." They slipped off into the blackness. On this night, precisely eight seasons ago, Badrang the Tyrant had slain Laterose of Noonvale. Chapter Two: Prophecy ''Extract from the writing of Germaine, first Abbess of Redwall, as dictated to Bella of Brockhall. ''Life at our abbey has been calm for many seasons now. Gonflet and Chugger, along with a season old named Ivy have become tight friends- there is a constant watch on the Abbey kitchens now. Trimp the Rover, Vurg, and Beauclair Frethringsol Cosfortingham have made their permanent home here at Redwall. Beau has become Assistant Cook to Goody Stickle. Despite his age, he is still an excellent cook, one that Redwall can be proud of. '' ''Martin, our Abbey Warrior, has been spending much time with the Dibbuns lately. I notice that he always seems melancholy round this time and season, though I have no idea why- even he seems to have no idea himself. A drought has come upon us. I incorporated the pond into the plans for the Abbey- all that is left of the flood tunnels we used to bring down Kotir. Now even if the generations to come have a drought this terrible, they will have an undying source of water. '' ''' *** ' "An army, you say? How many?" "Ten thousand, at least." There were gasps of horror around the council room. Urran Voh sighed and put his head into his paws. First Badrang, now this. "Ten thousand? We'll be massacred!" "Our children!" "We must leave!" "I'm not going!" "SILENCE!" Everybeast turned in surprise to the normally soft-spoken Brome. "Shouting and panicking won't get us anywhere. My father-your chieftain- is talking, I suggest you listen." He nodded to Urran and sat back down. Urran Voh turned to the populace. "The situation is grim, my friends. We are not warriors. We are healers, thinkers, creators. We know little of such matters. And so I have decided to reinstate the Fur and Freedom Fighters. Barkjon, Keyla, Ballaw, and Rowanoak know more on this subject than we do- you'll be in good paws. Now, does anybeast have any other ideas?" Almost immediately, Keyla's paw was in the air. "Yes, Keyla?" The young otter stood and surveyed the populace. "Eight seasons ago, we faced a similar threat to our freedom. We faced Badrang the Tyrant, but overcame it with help." The otter's cerulean eyes were determined. "I vote we seek out that help." Urran Voh felt cold anger ignite with in him as he realized what the young otter was saying. Keyla's sea blue eyes met Urran Voh's. "I move we go to find Martin the Warrior." Conflicting murmurs ran through the populace. Urran Voh, nearly blind with anger, managed to speak calmly. "Keyla, I need to talk to you in private." Almost as soon as they were out of earshot he turned on the young otter. "Are you mad? I wouldn't let Martin within a thousand miles of Noonvale if he was the only hope of peace!" Keyla waited while Urran continued his rant. When he reached a stopping point, he spoke his argument. "That just shows how bitter ye are." Urran Voh opened his mouth to respond, but Keyla continued. "You're looking for someone to blame for Rose's death, and Martin makes a logical scapegoat. But he had nothing to do with it. He put her as far away from the action as possible. I know. There was little fighting where she was." "Then how come she died?" Keyla fought to control his rising temper. "Because Badrang was such a coward that he tried to escape through the tunnel dug. He hacked at Grumm, and Rose hurled herself at him. He threw her against the wall and you know the rest." "If you know so much about it, where were you during all this?" "Saving Brome's hide!" Their voices had both raised a few decibels by now, but they were too angry to care. "I can't. You don't know what it's like, Keyla. To lose one you love." The otter's blue eyes were filled with grief. "You at least remember Rose. I have few memories of my father and mother. Snippets of a lullaby, a voice, the rocking of a ship- scattered fragments of a previous life." Keyla laughed bitterly. "At least you were spared the sight of seeing Rose die. The only memory I have with clarity is seeing my father fall to the deck, covered in blood. At least you did not see that happen to Rose. Why can't you give Martin a chance?" Urran Voh shook his head. "My verdict is final." ' *** '' "Make your report." Her voice was curt. "My Lady, we found this at a rocky outcropping just above our landing place." He handed her Keyla's sling. She examined it critically then sniffed it. "An otter's sling. Of otter make, and it reeks of otter too." She threw it over her shoulder carelessly. "Were there any footprints?" she inquired. "Yes, my lady." "Where did they lead?" "We thought we'd report before we followed it, my l-" She slew him on the spot, the barbs on her sword ripping through his flesh. He didn't even have time to gasp, and if he did, he never heard it. She glared at the rat behind him. "Congratulations. You've just been promoted. Now follow those footprints! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" The last words were a full-throated roar. The scouts fled. She settled back with a sigh. Idiots. They were the younger, unexperienced vermin. She'd have to keep them on their paws. ''' *** '' A door slammed and all of Noonvale looked up as Urran Voh walked into the room, with Keyla in tow. The way his father ground his teeth and curled his lip, the way his friend's blue eyes sparked and his fists clenched was like an open book to Brome. Both were angry, presumably at each other. Keyla stalked over to Brome and sat next to him, still muttering angrily under his breath. Urran Voh stepped back up. "We decided that getting Martin was not a good idea, for tactical reasons-" "Try personal," Keyla wrathfully growled. " -And we have no idea where he is," finished Urran Voh. "Now, if anybeast has any other ideas-" Without warning, Brome shrieked, a high, piercing, heartbroken sound, and fell off the scaffolding to hard rock where he lay unmoving. ''' *** '' Brome saw it happen, plain as day. The pine marten from last night was laughing like a maniac. Her sword was covered in blood, and at her paws lay corpses. Dad. Mum. Grumm. Keyla. Ballaw. Rowanoak. Tullgrew. All these and more lay dead, slain by the pine marten. He screamed and felt a paw on his shoulder. "This is what will happen should you fail." “Martin?” The other mouse had an apologetic look about him. "I'm Matthias, not Martin." For the first time, Brome saw the female standing next to Matthias. Rose! Before he could say anything, she began to speak: "In Mossflower Wood, which grows thick and deep Where is the Warrior who will answer thy call? To lose to the Warbeast shall demand a cost steep; You shall find the Warrior at the Abbey of Redwall" Rose stopped speaking, and Matthias took over: "To seek the Warrior, who shall proceed? Which five travel forth through danger at need? First of the five, the first to be shown-'' ''Healer of Wounds, thy skills will be known. Next, Otter the swimmer, slinger of stone. Your constant companion, whether you laugh or moan. Player must go, though she be filled with fright, Singer of song, and dancer of light. Then the thrower of javelins- my words thou shalt heed, Freed slave from Marshank, your presence we need Lastly, the strong, loyal digger of rows, A great friend to Rose- in his heart still she grows." An eerie silence followed. After a minute, three voices spoke in unison- Matthias, Rose and Felldoh. It was a little eerie; the way they spoke in unison- a dead healer, a slain hero, and an as of yet unborn Warrior. That just made the chanted lines all the more terrifying: Tarry not, continue on your way When two have fallen in the land without rain, Beware the little folk, flee away, Do not trust their sweet refrain. One more shall be lost at the River Moss, An expense to Stormfin but to thee a gain. Brome had a bad feeling about the days ahead. Chapter Three: Parley "Where did the footprints lead?" she asked with a frown. Hopefully, this rat was smarter than those other idiots she's met earlier. "It led to that Loonvalley place." "How many full-grown woodlanders were there?" "Hmm, uh, no more than uh, two hundred? . . ." Luckily, she didn't notice the question in his voice. "Good. I want every member in my army fully armed and ready to march in one hour. I'm promoting you to second in command." She reached into her cloak and produced a brooch in the likeness of a cobra ready to strike- identical to one she wore on her shoulder. "This is a sign of your rank." She roughly pinned it on his left shoulder. "I had a black cloak here somewhere- if you find it, you can have it. Now, don't fail me- one hour." "Yes my lady." He ducked out the door with a slight frown. He had seen young ones at Noonvale. He didn't feel very comfortable attacking little 'uns. The others could call him soft if'n they wanted, but he wasn't going to hurt innocent babes. ''''' *** '' Their conflict forgotten for the moment, Keyla and Urran Voh hovered by Brome's still form. "What happened, Keyla?" "He screamed and fell. That's all." "He's coming to!" Brome groaned and sat up, holding his head. "What- what happened?" "You fell off the scaffolding," Keyla said, "You were lucky you didn't land on yer 'ead." "Brome, are you alright?" Urran Voh asked anxiously. "I'm fine." Brome's eyes fell on the Laterose bush. His eyes widened. "Father, Rose sent me a message." Urran Voh stared at his son. "She what?" "Yes, Rose. And Felldoh." Barkjon stifled a gasp. "And some guy named Matthias who looked an awful lot like Martin . . ." "What did they say?" Keyla asked. "In Mossflower Wood, which grows thick and deep Where is the Warrior who will answer thy call? To lose to the Warbeast shall demand a cost steep; You shall find the Warrior at the Abbey of Redwall" "To seek the Warrior, who shall proceed? Which five travel forth through danger at need? First of the five, the first to be shown-'' ''Healer of Wounds, thy skills will be known. Next, Otter the swimmer, slinger of stone. Your constant companion, whether you laugh or moan. Player must go, though she be filled with fright, Singer of song, and dancer of light. Then the thrower of javelins- my words thou shalt heed, Freed slave from Marshank, your presence we need Lastly, the strong, loyal digger of rows, A great friend to Rose- in his heart still she grows." Tarry not, continue on your way When two have fallen in the land without rain, Beware the little folk, flee away, Do not trust their sweet refrain. One more shall be lost at the River Moss, An expense to Stormfin but to thee a gain. "What does it mean?" a frustrated Brome finished. "It means," Keyla began with a triumphant look at Urran Voh, "That we have to go find Martin." Urran Voh's face darkened. "Keyla, we've been through this already-" "It makes sense," mused Aryah, "In Mossflower Wood, which grows thick and deep Where is the Warrior who will answer thy call? To lose to the Warbeast shall demand a cost steep; You shall find the Warrior at the Abbey of Redwall" "She even went so far to even tell us where to find Martin." "I can't believe you're considering this, Aryah," Urran Voh whispered brokenly. "It's our only hope," she whispered softly, taking his paw. Keyla placed a paw on the Chieftain's shoulder. Urran Voh was quiet, then he exhaled and slowly nodded. "You're right." "To seek the Warrior, who shall proceed? Which five travel forth through danger at need? First of the five, the first to be shown-'' ''Healer of Wounds, thy skills will be known," Tullgrew quoted after a minute. Her brow furrowed "Basically, it's asking five of us to go find Martin. How do we know who the first of the five is?" "It's me," Brome said softly, avoiding his father's gaze. "She showed me Category:Fan Fiction Category:Blog posts